


To All The Villains I've Loved Before

by MaskedNightingale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Accidental communication between universes, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, F/M, Gen, Portkeys, Tumblr Prompt, modern girl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedNightingale/pseuds/MaskedNightingale
Summary: Audra is a fangirl who relates more to fictional characters than to real people.Her therapist suggests she write to the characters she loved the most to see if perhaps she'd be able to understand why.Audra writes the letters, but then one day they all disappear.Then, the impossible happens she begins to receive replies.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Loki/Original Female Character, Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 185





	1. How It Began

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BewareTheIdesOfMarchYall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdesOfMarchYall/gifts).



> (Inspired by a prompt by "Beware the Ides of March" on Tumblr re: her wanting more To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AUs in fanfiction)

It had been her therapist’s idea. 

  


It was a simple project. Write letters to the characters that she felt the most kinship or love. 

  


It wasn’t until she made the list of characters once she got home that she realized that they were all villains. 

  


In retrospect, it wasn’t a surprise. She had always felt closer to real and fictional people that were a little bit broke. In the few relationships she had over the years, things never really progressed any further after she met their families. Their families who were full of stories of love. 

  


It was easier to love strangers; volunteering her time at elderly homes, soup kitchens, and the like. It was how she found happiness. 

  


The fans of her novels also were also easy to love. She would receive letters (through her publisher) of people who were so thankful for her imperfect characters in a world of characters that often surpassed their weaknesses and rose above them. Her characters were constantly enduring, fighting and trying to live their lives with their imperfections and disabilities; living each day at a time. 

  


At home she had a whole wall in her office dedicated to her fan letters and portraits she’d been sent. They would always bring a smile to her face on a hard day, when her own ‘ghosts’ would haunt her. 

  


Her character list had been narrowed down to merely three characters, the rest she realized didn’t hold her attention the same way. 

  


Sure she loved Jareth the Goblin King but she didn’t really have anything that she’d ever like to say to him; except maybe to ask where he got his impressive tight pants. Batman had all sorts of darkness but he was also really, really rich; not that riches solve problems, but she still didn’t feel like she had anything to offer or get off her chest to him. Peter Hale was attractive and Slytherin to the core, however she didn’t feel the need to decompress anything to him either. Her letter to him mostly would be ranting about the stupidity of those in Beacon Hills and would read more like a complaint letter to the writers of the tv show than an actual letter to the character; so he was crossed off last (making a note to write some fanfiction to let off some of that steam). 

  


The remaining three all had something in common with her, her heart more entwined with their stories. 

  


  1. Erik - The Phantom of the Opera
  2. Loki - Prince of Asgard
  3. Tom Riddle - Voldemort




	2. Erik

Garnier Opera House, Paris, France

19th Century

Dear Erik, 

You have been someone very dear to my heart since I was very young. Your story inspired me and taught me many lessons. You taught me that even in the face of great prejudice, you can achieve anything you put your mind to. You taught me the difference between obsession and love. You taught me that in a world of violence, you can be the change. 

I know that if you were truly reading this letter you might be truly confused, especially if your story was half as true as the one who writes of it later on. 

You see I believe in the old saying “with great power, comes great responsibility”. Although you were born with a disadvantage, you rose above it. Despite not having the love of your parents, you decided to still live on and become your own person. 

I grew up an orphan, never knowing who my parents were until I was an adult. So many of my peers around me decided to shape themselves around the fact that they were orphans, and felt like they deserved pity. I’m not saying they didn’t, but I didn’t want to live my life that way. Your character rejected pity, you grew stronger on your own in a world that gave you very little help along the way. 

Even though we lived, if you truly did, a little over a century apart our worlds have not been so much different. Despite the advancement in technology, mankind is still very much visual orientated. There are many organizations, movements and people who try to rise above social customs but there’s still the divide between those considered beautiful and those lacking; or those who are wealthy or those who are poor. The social divides and prejudice have driven many people into gruesome acts. 

Despite all the imperfections of those who surround me though I can’t help but value life. I believe every person has a purpose (whether they decide to fulfill it or not is up to them). However, I do believe that there are some actions that warrant death. 

Your choices are your own to make, however to take away the choices or consent of another is something I can never condone. 

I suppose this is why its hard for me when I read of you taking away Christine’s decisions. Trying to force her to choose in a no-win situation; because I believe if you truly love someone you would never do that to them. You eventually let her go, but only after she shows you compassion after you have made her make an impossible choice. 

Love needs to be unconditional first. 

After reading your story when I was younger and so very blind to the world I had felt so bad for you. Your life has been horrible. You were a genius that had so much potential, but were forced to hide from society. Then the only person you loved didn’t love you in turn. 

I grew older though and things changed. I realized where I was mistaken. 

You had so much potential, but decided to hide away. You could have shared your talents, even gained fame but you decided not to. This was not something forced upon you. You had already proven that despite your imperfections you could achieve miracles and fantastic things (also despite the prejudice you received), however you decided to hide. When given an opportunity to share your love of music with someone, instead of nurturing a honest friendship with a like minded individual you decided to deceive them. 

You didn’t give them the chance to prove to you that they saw beyond physical appearances, because you showed your deceptive side first. Then you took them away thinking that everything could be resolved with very little apology but instead a kidnapping. You claimed them as a possession, a thing that was yours; not a human being. You treated them just like others had treated you; as something to be displayed. Then when they tried to find out who you were (by taking off your mask), since once more you had deceived them and they didn’t know who you actually were anymore, you acted out violently. So they of course were terrified. They had been manhandled, betrayed, lied to and then treated violently. Your face might be terrifying but your actions that led up to that moment were what hurt them the most. How could they truly care for you, forgive you, if at every turn you sought to control them even more? You treated them like a child to be disciplined, not like a person you loved and cared for. 

The thing that always bothered me was that Christine from the story never seemed to truly be in love with the young man from her past. He wasn’t brave or inclined towards music like her, but he offered himself like a safe haven. You had made her make the decision to go with someone she barely loved because it was safer than staying at her home. You took away from her, the very thing that would have connected you two if you had been truthful; your love of music. She would have become an amazing star if she had stayed at the Opera; however you had made the place she loved to be a place she feared to stay. You stole away the very dreams that you had wished to inspire further. 

In doing all the above things you ended up depriving not only her of true love and happiness but yourself. 

I think you would have had a chance with her, if you had been truthful. 

You could have still offered her music lessons, but had told her you preferred not to let her know your name until she knew you better. You could have nurtured her musical talents and gotten to know her, even masked, by letting her know the truth that you were scarred (or some equivalent). Christine never to me seemed to be vapid or shallow. I believe she could have fallen in love with you merely because of your intellect, your dry sense of humor and your mutual love of music. 

You both in the end could have ended up together, surrounded forever in music; but because of your fear you lost that chance. You lost your chance at a possibly beautiful future because you had rather deceive than be truthful. You lost your chance because you had rather be controlling than loving. 

In this way, the lessons I learned from your story came from both your good and bad example. 

I just wish that if you were given a second chance, you’d make the right choice.

  
  


Sincerely,

A Stranger Who Loved(s) You


	3. Loki

Palace of Asgard

Loki,

You have always fascinated me. Even before movies would come out about you and some of your villainy; I would read the old Norse legends about you. You always seemed so mischievous and mysterious. 

Your parentage was curious, throughout Norse mythology it was said that you were the son of jotuns Farbauti and Laufey. However, you were raised by Odin and his wife Frigga. 

Then there were the numerous tales of your wide range of children, ranging from a eight-legged horse to the wolf Fenrir of legend. 

You seemed to be this jack-of-all-trades having been everywhere and been everything. 

Everyone else, kids at the orphanage and school, would love greek mythology because of all the media about it but I was faithful to my love of your story. 

Then the Marvel movies came out and you were portrayed by the handsome actor, Tom Hiddelston and well everyone fell for you. 

I always smirked at people loving Loki, the God of Mischief, because I had loved you far before any of them. You were like a family member that never judged me, for you had done a range of far stupider things. You were actually the image of my imaginary friend when I was still young enough to have one. You were always ranged in age, depending on what kind of friend I needed. Sometimes you were a child my age, sometimes you were depicted older with a beard like the etchings in old Norse manuscripts when I felt I needed someone older beside me. You were family. 

Even now that I know of my ‘real’ family, I can’t help but think of you as my actual family even though I’ve never met you and most likely never will since in all actuality you were a myth created by the vikings of old. 

However, even though you were always my confidant, I’ve found myself in recent years wanting to offer you advice. 

Whether or not the Marvel universe had any actual sway on your actuality (if you were ever really real in the first place), I’d like to say you are not alone. 

Believing yourself to be one thing only to find out your something else entirely is a harsh reality to come about. 

If you had suddenly discovered your jotun heritage, resent your adoptive father Odin for his not very A+ parenting then here’s what I’d like to say: You are not alone. How you were created has no precedent on who you are today. 

That’s a mantra I have to tell myself almost everyday. “How I was created has no precedent on who I am today.” 

It doesn’t matter if your birth parents really were “monsters”, it doesn’t matter. You are who you are not because of the blood in your veins but because of your personality, your ambitions, your beliefs and your dreams now. 

You are Loki. The Mischief Lord of All Things Snarky and Brilliant! You are a mastermind magician with talents beyond many surrounding you. You are loved by your mother Frigga, and that should not be forgotten in the fray of “truths” that might be surrounding you. For unconditional love is one of the most powerful things in the whole galaxy/universe. 

Sincerely, 

A Stranger Who Loves You


	4. Tom (Part 1)

Wool’s Orphanage, London

December 31, 1937

Age: 11

Dear Tom,

Congrats on becoming 11! Your whole life is about to change. 

If he hasn’t come already you will receive a visit from a wizard who will explain that you are a wizard yourself. Ignore any suspicious looks he might have towards you, he’s just an old fart and holds no bearing on who you are going to be. 

Tom, you are special. 

Not because you can speak to snakes, or move things with your mind. In fact, its not even the magic that thrums through your veins that makes you special. 

You are special because you are alive. You have an intellect that far surpasses those around you. You have the power to be anything you want to be in life. 

You are going to face many people who are going to treat you as lesser than, however, Tom hears the thing...you have the unique power to  ignore them. Don’t allow others to define who you are by their own prejudices. Don’t strive to prove to them anything, because you don’t need to. You are strong Tom. You have a fever to not only survive in the world around you, but also to live. 

Living for yourself is important, but loving yourself is more important. If you love who you are at this moment (ignore the outside world), then you will be able to achieve anything you set your mine to and the hurtful words will bounce off you like you have a shield surrounding your very soul. 

Sincerely, 

A Stranger Who Loves You


	5. Tom (Part 2)

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

December 31, 1942

Age: 16

Dear Tom,

Congrats on being 16! 

This is the year you find out about your ancestry and its going to be disappointing on one hand and the other kind of cool. 

I didn’t find out about my ancestry until I was 21. It was a blow that haunts me to this day. I would have preferred to just have been an orphan, a simple orphan; but it wasn’t to be. You see you and I are very similar on how our existences came about. 

You see this is where I need to say something that is similar to my other letters (not to you, to someone else). How you were created has no precedent on who you are today. 

You are already brilliant, talented, intelligent, cunning, ambitious and so much more. All that you are at this moment doesn’t go away once you find out how you came about. You are not defined by who your parents were/are or what they have done. 

You are going to come into some heavy duty knowledge, about the darker magics, that you will really want to test or do but I really hope you think thoroughly through it. 

You see the H word is something that’s going to change who you are, and not in a good way. It’s going to split you apart, and each time you make one its going to tear you apart again and again until all that is left is a mere speck of who you once were. A horcrux made by the death of another, doesn’t just involve murder of someone else it also means the murder of half of your soul. It will no longer be a part of you. 

There are other ways to achieve immortality, Tom. The other ways don’t involve you killing someone else or part of yourself either. There’s the Philosopher’s Stone for instance or the Deathly Hallows. Both are options with their own side backs but not nearly as detrimental as horcruxes. 

If your reasoning behind doing one now has to do with the current war, there are ways to protect yourself. At your current age you should be old enough to go to Gringotts (in Diagon Alley) and get an inheritance test. You should then be able to claim any Lordships, if I remember correctly your mother’s family never actually claimed the Lordship that goes with your ancestry. I believe you are able to be emancipated after claiming your Lordships, but that could have been from a faulty source; so do your research! You can get a job over the summer in Diagon Alley, and stay nights in the wizarding community during times where its unsafe to go out in the muggle world because of the war. There are things you can do to protect yourself, Tom, that don’t involve splitting your soul. 

Oh and try not to judge all muggles for those making the current war and the idiots at the orphanage. Both aren’t the best examples of humanity. There are kind people out in the world, they are just hidden beneath the layer of ugliness and that ugliness has to be wiped away to see it. Just like in the wizarding world, there’s old coots that are stupid and annoying and snobs who think they are the sunniest side of the world but they are not the whole wizarding world. 

I hope you can find something that makes you happy, Tom.

Because in the world of ugliness, you should find something beautiful just for yourself. 

I would suggest researching the Patronus charm before going forth with the horcrux plan. It is powerful magic that you would not be able to fulfill if your soul is not whole.

Sincerely, 

A Stranger Who Loves You


	6. Tom (Part 3)

England

December 31, 1979

Age: 53

Dear Tom (or Voldemort), 

Congrats on half a century! (+3)

I don’t have much to say in this letter, just that every life is precious (even if that life annoys you). 

I’m going to continue writing this letter like the others (like you actually exist), so:

If you made the horcruxes: By now you probably have very little of your soul left, so probably by now you are not as sane as you once were. Oh if only someone had warned you. Anyways, you are going to be given a prophecy in the coming year. It’s going to say that someone will have the “power you know not” and will be able to vanquish you. If you decide to take out (kill) those who line up to this prophecy, you will be fulfilling it. As soon as you act upon it, it’s going to set forth the series of events that lead to your downfall. (Clue: the power you know not is literally something you give them by trying to kill them.)

I would suggest a different approach. So no killing first off. You are just proving the old coot right about everything he ever suspected you of and thus playing straight into his hands which I’m sure is the last thing you’d ever want to do. 

Instead, continue on the political path. From what I remember, you already have far more on your ‘side’ than the old coot has. If you go the war route you are just allowing him to have an advantage. You wouldn’t think so with all your schemes of mass-murdering/killing/torturing but alas that is how revolutions are won against opposers. The peaceful route would be your safest bet. 

If you did not make horcruxes: Congrats! I still suggest the peaceful route. ‘Kill’ people with kindness. All magical blood is vital to the success of magical Britain surviving. The purebloods have inbred way too many times, they literally need some variation in their bloodlines. Instead go about the political approach of revolutionizing the education students get, making muggleborns aware of the reasons behind the upholding of old traditions; teaching them about magic itself. 

Let the old coots of the world talk themselves to death, but show the world a united front. The magical world is going to implode taking everyone with them if there are no changes soon. 

Ex Earlier contact with muggleborns as soon as their magic manifests. If parents are not supportive, then provide some sort of law that shows relocating children to ‘safer’ families then obliviate the parents. Stuff like that. 

There is so much you can do Tom that does not involve murder and mayhem. You can achieve so much...dare I say it ‘good’ if you put your mind to it (and yes I mean good to the magical communities). 

Rule with something other than fear. There will always be revolutions when there are rulers who preside over their people with cruelty and violence. 

Sincerely, 

The Stranger Who Loved(s) You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview for next chapter:   
> It wasn’t until several weeks later that she realized that the letters were no longer where she had hid them under her home’s floorboards. The box was still there but the letters had vanished. It bothered her greatly but she shook it off, perhaps she sleep-walked and placed them elsewhere. However, she hadn’t sleep-walked for many years.


	7. The Letters Are Delivered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my reviewer 'Gabe/Gabby'. I hope you enjoy the reactions that follow.

Deep beneath the floorboards of a certain young woman’s home, a set of five letters disappeared one moonlit night. 

She wouldn’t realize they were gone until many weeks later, when the consequences of writing the letters would begin to fly into her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep beneath the Garnier, lived a genius composer. His life was filled with either composing or inventing. If he had slept the previous night, he would rise early; his body thrum with a sort of energy begging him to create and so he would. 

It was on such an early morning where he sat upon the bench, placed his hands on the ivory keys of his organ only to glance up and find a crisp crimson envelope sitting upon where one would put a score. 

**_To: Erik_ **was written on the front of it with what looked like white ink, the back held no wax seal. 

“Daroga, it is far too early for your antics.” The composer’s voice was musical and deep, but held an exasperated air. 

As he went to grab the envelope, he dropped it when he felt a shock run from fingertips to up his arm at the mere touch of the envelope. 

With hairless brows furrowed he picked up the envelope once more before opening it cautiously. His eyes swept through the content, the letter crumbling between his fingers before he ripped it to shreds and set the pieces ablaze. He would go haunt above to let off the steaming anger he felt, however back in his mind he couldn’t help but be worried. How could someone know of him so well, other than Nadir.

He would arrive home and make a move to go down the hall to his kitchen, only to see a flash of crimson at the corner of his eye. As he stalked back to his organ, there as if it had never been torn to pieces or burnt to ash lay the crimson envelope. 

He would repeat the process for many days following, trying every which way to destroy the letter only for it to always come back to him the next day unharmed. 

It would be the arrival of a young soprano to the Garnier’s chorus that would draw him back to reading the letter once more. This time it would not be destroyed, this time it would be set next to his masks in his crimson and ebony room waiting to be read once more when he needed the insight of the mysterious stranger who claimed to have loved him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heimdall stood at attention at his post. He’d seen many things come through the bifrost over the ages and yet he’d yet to see a letter flutter from the portal only to land at his feet. 

An emerald green envelope with black accents with only the words ‘ **_To: Loki_ **’ on its front. 

Only for the prince himself to arrive, stating his mother expected he may have something come for him. 

Heimdall bent and picked up the letter and handed it to the prince who peered at it with much consternation; only to turn away with not even a word of gratitude. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A boy of barely eleven would find a crisp envelope in the darker shades of the chrysoberyl upon his bed after he came up from breakfast one morning. 

His eyes would dash to his closed bedroom door as if afraid that someone might come in and take it from him. 

He had never received a letter before, it was rarity for an orphan at Wool’s to ever receive mail. He stood above it, his dark eyes fixed upon it, before his fingers reached out and brushed the rich paper a shock of energy caused him to snatch his hand away. He would sit at the edge of his bed and stare at it, until a knock came at his door Mrs. Cole’s voice came through that he had a guest. Quickly he would hide the envelope in his wardrobe along with his other precious findings, before sitting back upon the bed and saying they could come in.

The man was strange. He wore a garish mauve and lime green suit that clashed with his slightly auburn graying hair. He spoke of a school, of magic and wizards. When asked to prove it, the boy would jump forward with a cry as the old man set his wardrobe ablaze with his very few possessions contained within. 

The man would chuckle and ‘put out’ the fire, stating it was merely an illusion before scolding the boy for taking things that were not his. 

He would go with the odd man, who looked at him with a narrowed gaze he knew well; he would get all his school supplies. He would see many a wizard and a witch. In the end while holding his wand in hand, he would think that it was by far his best birthday ever. 

The boy would arrive home and lay to sleep; only to find that sleep evaded him. He would remember the envelope with his name on the front. He would take it from the wardrobe and quickly open it. 

_Dear Tom,_

_Congrats on becoming 11! Your whole life is about to change._

The letter was the most personal thing he’d ever had, something beyond his magic that was only his. He would keep it in his trunk and bring it with him wherever he went. He would be thankful to find it undamaged, when he was bullied for being a ‘mudblood’ in the house of Slytherin. He would read the words over and over. 

_You are special because you are alive. You have an intellect that far surpasses those around you. You have the power to be anything you want to be in life._

They would be the strength, even on the hardest of days when prejudice and suspicious eyes followed him everywhere. 

Then one day he received another letter on his 16th birthday. The letter writer was aware of his future, there were warnings but also reassurances. 

However, the letters would not be enough once he was faced with the whispers that spoke to only him and his magic that thrummed beneath his skin begging for him to learn more and more about the darkness he held from within. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last letter would arrive, that would prompt an action that would set in motion a young woman’s transformative adventure.


	8. Audra

Audra was going through her morning rituals, when an odd sort of tapping came from her small dining room’s window. 

She continued making breakfast, but the tapping did not let up and so she decided to find out what was annoying her so early in the morning. 

She was grateful then that she had left her tea sitting on her kitchen counter, for she knew she would have dropped it if she had had it in her hand. The tapping was coming from the claws and wings of a Great Horned Owl with a fierce amber gaze. 

Their gazes connected and a shiver went down her spine at the sharp intelligence coming from the fierce predator’s gaze. After shaking her head to free herself from the staredown her eyes glanced down at its claws whereupon a closer look held what looked like a scroll in its grasp. 

She sucked in her breath and shakingly made her way to the window, her hand upon the clasp to open it but hesitating before the sharp tap of the owl’s beak upon the window came again.

“What the hell am I doing?” 

Opening the window she stepped to the side as the predator bird flew into her dining room, dropped its scroll upon her table and then perched upon one of her dining room chairs its head tilted to the side. 

She stared down at the scroll that sat on her table, an old-timey seal upon it with an S in emerald wax. An odd sort of instinct caused her to grab a pair of her metal tongs from the kitchen and use them to handle it. As soon as it was touched though it unfurled itself into an envelope still with the same seal but this time when she flipped the letter over with the tongs, a gasp caught in her throat as she read the front, ‘ **To: The Stranger Who Loved(s) Me** ’. The strangest thing was that the ‘d’ and the ‘s’ after ‘love’ kept flickering back and forth kind of like those holographic prints as if it couldn’t decide which to stay upon. 

“What the he…” 

Her doorbell rang, causing her to jump in the air dropping the letter and tongs to the floor; her hand over her heart. 

For a moment she just stared at her door, frozen by some strange animal like fear before shaking her head as the doorbell rang again. 

“I’m coming.” 

A package had been left at her doorstep.

It was strange for her to get a package. Audra could count on one hand all the people who had her address. Not even her publisher knew her cottage’s address, they sent all correspondence to her PO Box. 

As she peered down at the package her hands tightened around the edges and she rushed down her driveway to catch the delivery man but he was already gone. 

The package read on its front, ‘ **To: The Stranger Who Loved Me** ’. The paper was aged and looked to be quite old, it had numerous stamps on it like it had gone around the world and back again before it arrived at her doorstep. On instinct, a colleague’s voice whispered how to treat items of historic value in the back of her mind, she grabbed some plastic gloves from the bottom of her sink in the kitchen before opening the package on her kitchen countertop carefully. 

There were two letter bundles, one tied with black velvet string and the other with a light blue. Then in a simple but beautiful wood carven frame was a black and white photograph. 

A photograph that caused Audra’s throat to drop to her stomach. For there standing tall, a bright smile that reached his glinting eyes, was a man that Audra had truly believed did not exist. 

He was maskless and yet there was no fear as he stared straight as if he could see her, hair dark and long tied back with a ribbon over one shoulder but graying around his temples. His face was quite like how she had imagined it, he looked skeletal and sunken in but the joy that radiated from him in the picture seemed to give him something that the legends and stories couldn’t. 

Beside him, with her head upon his arm and her arm interwoven with his, was a woman that seemed to embody the sun. She was light incarnate, she would have almost blended into the background of the photograph had it not been for her outfit that accentuated her petite but gentle curves. Her eyes seemed to glisten as they peered at the camera, she smiled sweetly and kindly. Just from the body language of the two you could tell they were absolutely in love, a true sort of love. They did not need to look into each other’s eyes to know it, but merely be within each other’s presence to feel it. 

Audra looked to the bundle of letters and then back at the photograph before shaking her head. The thought was ridiculous. 

“Either way it’s not as if they could have ever gotten my letters in the first place, even if this was all real.” 

Audra swallowed thickly and as she turned saw the imperious look of the owl, “Don’t judge me.” 

Shaking her head once more Audra turned her head toward her little living room off her dining, where she knew she had put the letters beneath several loose floorboards.

“This is all very silly.” 

Stepping from her kitchen and walking through her dining and into her little living space she bent her knee and pried open the little space. She sighed with relief as she saw that the tin box she put the letters in was still there, but still she bent forward and took it out. The tin box’s lid fell open beneath her fingertips, the gasp catching itself halfway in her throat for somewhere inside Audra already knew the letters were going to be gone. 

~Time Skip~

Audra heard back from her therapist’s office when she was on the rail headed toward the museum in the next city over. Her colleague, an old friend from her orphanage days, had become a historian and worked in the archives. 

Evey Griffiths had always had a fascination with history, ever since she was little. She was really the only child that seemed to humor Audra when she went into tangents about Norse mythology. It was no wonder when Evey grew up and got into several high brand colleges with scholarships. They stayed in contact over the years and Evey enjoyed especially being Audra’s sounding board for various research projects for her books. 

So when Audra had called up stating she had something she needed to verify the authenticity of, Evey jumped at the chance. 

Audra called back to the therapist’s office once she got off the rail and was in a remote corner of the station by the restrooms. 

“You wished to speak to me urgently, Audra.” 

The soothing voice of her therapist immediately put Audra at ease. 

“I know you never would do this, I just need it from your mouth…”

“What is it?”

“Did you tell anyone else about the letters I was supposed to write?” 

The therapist was quiet on the other line, so quiet that Audra spoke up, “Mary?”

“No, I didn’t speak to anyone regarding them. Did something happen?”

Audra furrowed her brows. She felt it odd slightly that the therapist would immediately think something happened, even with her question. 

Audra stared up at the subway tiled roof above her head before taking a deep breath, silently telling herself that she could trust this woman. There was no reason she shouldn’t, she’d helped her through so much in the last two years she’d been seeing her. 

“I received replies this morning.” Audra paused, waiting for a response but none came. “Only from two but…” Audra sighed, and rubbed her temples, “The letters I wrote are gone. I put them in a safe place, a hidden place but they disappeared.” 

“Will you bring the replies to me at our next session?” Mary asked. 

There was something in her voice, not quite eagerness but something close to it that set Audra on edge. 

“Yes.” 

The call ended shortly afterwards and soon she found herself making her way out of the station and then across the street to the museum. 

Audra wondered why she hadn’t told Mary that she was getting one of the letters authenticated. Perhaps she didn’t wish to confirm that she was even entertaining the idea that perhaps...just maybe...there was the slightest chance that they could be real. 

Audra’s mind went back to the owl from this morning that had still been sitting out in her yard, even after she’d fed it some bacon, eyeing her intelligently as she left. A shiver ran down her spine. 

~Time Skip~

Evey’s blonde curl fell from her braided bun at the back of her head as she leaned forward. 

“The preservation of this specimen is incredible, where did you get it?” 

“They arrived this morning.” 

Evey’s pale green eyes lit up, “They?” 

Reluctantly Audra pulled one of the bundles of letters out, each were in individual plastic ziplocks in her purse, she slid the bag over with the bundle with the blue ribbon. 

“So the photograph is authentic then?”

Evey nodded excitedly, “Yes, a very clear photograph for the time period but…” She used her utensils and turned the photograph to its underside, “It’s a carte-de-visite, a cardboard backed photograph common from the late 1850s to early 1900s. The cardboard mount’s rounded corners shows it was made after 1870.” Her clothed fingertip tapped a couple of inked names and placed it on the back, ‘Erik & Christine Desrosiers, Venezia’. “Usually it would have the photographer’s name but it looks like it has the couple’s names.” 

Audra’s eyes widened, ‘Erik’. 

~Time Skip~

Two days later found Audra running late to her therapist’s office. 

Mary had a small office at the top of another clinic’s office. A small waiting room, a little office and the therapy room was all that was upstairs. 

As she reached the top of the stairs, Audra could just barely hear some slightly gruffer voices above the softer tones of her therapist. The sound of her own name amidst their talking caused her stop in her tracks on the stairs and flatten against the railing. 

“...Audra called...may not be…”

One of the gruffer voices spoke, “...bringing proof?”

Audra could feel the tell-tale sign of anxiety rising into her heart from the tightness in her chest and the shaking of her hands. 

“She should be…” 

Audra closed her eyes and opened them making up her mind, straightening her spine and making up the rest of the stairwell. Not needing to act in order to seem out of breath from how her shakes were causing her limbs to tremble. 

“I’m so sorry, Mary! I was running late today.” 

Her stormy grey eyes already wide as she reached the top of the stairs, widened only slightly more at the look of the strangers standing one inside Mary’s office and the other right outside of it. Audra’s immediate thought was: ‘men-in-black’. 

“Um...do you need me to wait in the waiting room?” Her smile was weak; Audra could tell even without seeing the unconvinced emotionless expressions on the grunts' faces. 

Mary’s round face crinkled to the sides of her wizened old features, “No need, my dear. Why don’t you head on in. Did you bring what I asked?”

Audra blinked and even though she knew she had them, she looked into her bag. 

Pulling out the plastic bag with the sealed letter, “I have one. Where is the other one?” Out of the corner of her eye, she did not miss Mary’s look at the men or their steps forward. “Damn! Oh, I’m sorry. I’m all over the place. I forgot the other letter in my car. I’ll be right back.” 

Audra turned on her heel and started down the staircase again. Waving behind her as she heard Mary call the negative, “It’s alright, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

Taking a deep breath Audra trotted down the stairs in a normal hurried pace but as soon as she was out of normal eyesight of the office she started fleeing down the staircase her heart in her throat. 

She had reached the bottom level as she heard the thundering echoes of the grunts following her, but she was already out the front door and running straight for her car. 

A glimpse down at the bag in her hand, an odd sort of instinct that was mixed with a bad feeling seemed to overwhelm her. 

She glimpsed out of the corner of her eye to see the 'grunts' gaining on her, she wouldn’t have time to take her key out and get in before they were on her. 

With a deep breath, she threw the plastic bag with the wax sealed letter behind her toward the grunts following her before she scrambled for her key in her purse and unlocked her car. 

In her car’s mirror she saw that her plan was working. They were picking it up, and she was in her car the doors were locked and the car on. 

It wasn’t until she was backing up and they were in front of the car both hands on the letter, their eyes widened in surprise that Audra saw why she had the bad feeling. 

The seal had broken on the letter, and the two grunts disappeared into thin air right in front of her. 

Eyes wide and unseeing at the spot they disappeared for only a few moments, before her emergency awareness procedures kicked into effect in her mind. 

Thankful to all the stories she’d written and all the obscure research, like how to drop a government tail or stay hidden even in a technologically advanced world. 

Audra was relieved when at last she made her way back home a full 24 hours after the events at the therapist’s office. Hoping that she was safe, wishing as she curled up in the corner of her armchair before her cold fireplace and dark living room that no one would find her. 

~POV shift~

Two darkly clothed, tall, muscular men stood confused in the center of a dark room; a letter falling from between their shared clasp. 

A shadow fell over them and before they could even raise their weapons from their sides they were restrained and a great pain, like their skulls were being split apart, could be felt until both fell to the ground. 

“Audra, her name is Audra.” 


	9. The Surprise Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different sort of reply to a letter.

Audra hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep when she awoke to the sound of the pounding of her door. 

Her room was dark and she felt as if she was in some odd dream, the events from the other day had not caught up with her yet as she made her way to her door only to open it to find a tall stranger on her doorstep. 

Her eyes widened and she slammed the door, her back to it. Her heart rate rose as the memories started flooding her mind, just as she started to realize the man hadn’t looked like the grunts from the therapist’s office and a voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“How rude.” With a flash of light the stranger that had once been standing on her doorstep now stood in front of her. 

Audra blinked and then screamed. 

“How disappointing, I expected more from the little human who wrote me such an interesting letter.” 

Audra shook and covered her mouth, her eyes widening as she stared at the stranger whose blue black hair seemed to swirl around his shoulders like there was some invisible wind inside her house that only surrounded him. 

The house seemed to have gotten several degrees colder just with the arrival of the strange guest.

Not wishing to take her eyes off the threat but knowing that if she didn’t close her eyes and center herself she would have a full blown panic attack, Audra took a deep breath and closed her eyes and sat down on the floor. 

“One moment please.” 

After focusing on her breathing for a couple of minutes, she felt her posture finally relax and her heart rate finally mellow out; Audra opened her eyes again. 

“Ok. So if I’m going to go off how my week has been so far, you must be his Royal Highness Loki of Asgard.” 

His eyes were glowing an icy blue and his lips were smirking down upon her. 

“Ok, I suppose that’s my answer. What may I ask, do I have the honor of your visit?” 

“My mother, Frigga, Queen of Asgard wishes to make your acquaintance.” 

“Oh.” Audra looked down, ‘Is that all?’ she thought. 

“She finds it quite strange that a human has the power to send letters through the Bifrost.” 

“Or through time or other dimensions for that matter.” Audra muttered.

“Excuse me?” Loki’s smirk widened and his eyes narrowed. 

“Doesn’t Heimdall see all? Doesn’t he know about the other letters?” 

Loki’s eyes widened. 

“Yes, I see. Neither of them did mention it.” 

His gaze became contemplative, he nodded. “However, Mother can’t say what she sees.” 

He straightened his shoulders and strode to the door, “None of that now, we must head out.” 

“Wait a minute! Do you know how long I’ll be gone?”

He stared blankly at Audra and elegantly shrugged his shoulders, as the Norse entity had no concept of a human’s time. 

Audra looked around her space, biting her lower lip in worry for a moment. One one hand, she had no idea what she was getting herself into and yet on the other it might be the safest place for her right now. She wasn’t sure when more odd grunts would find her, and she didn’t want to be experimented on; especially when she had no clue why or how she could do what she did. 

“One moment please, let me get together a to-go bag.” 

\--------

Before she knew it, Audra was outside with a to go bag (with her bundle of letters) standing beside Loki outside staring at the skies above expectantly. 

“Now what?” 

Loki tilted his head back and shouted at the storm gathering skies, “Heimdall!” 

Just as a ray of light fell from the sky to envelop them Audra fell the tell-tale painful pinpricks of talons gripping her shoulder as they were beamed up into the sky. 


End file.
